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e groups； as if for mutual protection。 So much the better； she thought； he can pick me out more easily this way than if the place were crowded。 One or two couples were moving about on the black glass dance floor in the slow languor of the tango； each with its plementary pair reflected upside down； so that there seemed to be twice as many as there were。
〃Is the seсorita expecting anyone？〃
She concealed the shiver this succeeded in eliciting。 The seсorita was； but not anyone to look forward to。
〃No； dinner for one。〃 Then； as he started to precede her toward the entrance steps of the building； 〃I want a table outside here。 All the way over； by the hedge。〃
He gave her a look。 〃Are you sure you want to sit that far out？〃
〃I'm sure；〃 she cut him short。 〃I don't like crowds。〃
There was no one out here at all； in all this sea of tables； as she took her seat。 The hedge that ran beside her was low； even seated she was visible almost from the waist up； for the tables were set on a platform in order to assure an evenness that the natural ground lacked。 The trees； and the impenetrable darkness below them； looked unfortably close； close enough for someone to reach out through them and snatch her bodily away； in an unguarded moment when everyone's back was turned。 Suppose…suppose something happened right here； where he and Belmonte weren't expecting it to； couldn't help her？
She turned her eyes away； remembering what Manning had warned her： not to show strain or awareness； studied the bill of fare。 A bill of fare that vibrated slightly in her hand； so that the printed words on it all showed double； as if seen through the beveled edge of a thick slab of glass。
〃You remend？〃 she said in a smothered voice。
〃The purйe of mango。〃
〃Very well； the purйe of mango。〃 How could she get anything down her throat； the way it felt now？ To swallow； something inside the throat had to open； didn't it？
〃And at the end； an ice and coffee。〃
She had been in many restaurants。 She had never yet been anything but slightly relieved to have the ordering done with and the headwaiter take himself off； viewing it as a minor annoyance at best。 Now she found herself regretting having reached the end of it so soon； reluctant to see him go in and leave her there alone。 She even deliberately held him there a moment or two longer beside her； repeating a redundant instruction or two。
Her eyes followed him all the way in when he finally left。 She felt so alone； so cut off out here。 True； there was a chasseur over there by the break in the hedge； to open car doors for arrivals； but he looked awfully far away； and these trees immediately about her were awfully close。 She opened the little bag on her lap； pretended to fumble for a handkerchief； and touched the butt of the gun Manning had given her。 She felt a little better after that。
Just as she finished her soup； a vermilion lantern directly over her； hers in view of the table she occupied； went out without any warning； and a pall of gray shadow was cast over her in its place。 She closed her eyes dismayedly。 Was that some kind of omen？
As soon as it had been noticed； two of them came hurrying out with a short stepladder； one of them climbed up on it behind her chair； fitted a new bulb into place； and in a moment it went on again brighter than before； so that was all right。
It was hard to eat。 And when not eating； it was even harder still。 She kept her eyes away from the direction of the trees by sheer will power。 Sometimes she was sure she could feel other； malign eyes boring steadily into her from the shadows beyond the hedge。 Sometimes she was sure it was just her imagination。
Once a small animal； perhaps a squirrel or a chipmunk； scurried along the ground on the outside of the hedge。 Luckily her napkin happened to be in her hand at the moment。 She got it up to and partly into her mouth before the scream had a chance to e。 She dug the nails of her other hand into its palm； nearly piercing the flesh； until she had conquered the spasm。 The next time the waiter approached after that； she said a little breathlessly： 〃Ask them to play a little louder。 I can't hear them very well out here。〃
〃Certainly； seсorita。 Any favorite selection？〃
She felt like saying； 〃Nearer My God to Thee；〃 but it would have been in earnest； not in jest； the way she felt； so she didn't。
〃And bring me some champagne；〃 she added。 〃It's dull here。〃
If she was being watched…and she was almost certain by now that she was…that would create a desirable impression。 Of nonchalance and celebration。 What she really wanted it for was to keep from fainting here in her seat。
They brought it and the cork popped and it foamed out in cheery beaded strings。 She raised her brimming glass high up over hedge level； so it couldn't fail to be seen。 She felt like turning toward the trees and holding it out in an ironical toast…〃Here's to you and me〃…but it would have been too ghastly。
She touched it to her lips； set it down again。 A mouthful or two was enough； to warm the lining of her throat。 She didn't want to dull her senses； they were the only armor she had tonight。 After a while she surreptitiously emptied it Out on the floor； on the inner side of the table； where she couldn't be seen doing it； and conspicuously refilled her glass。
Her request for champagne and louder music must have misled the management into thinking it had been remiss in attentiveness。 A tall young fellow with a telltale white carnation in his jacket came down the steps and over to her place of exile。 He bowed ingratiatingly。 〃May I have this tango？〃
〃Thank you； I'm not dancing。〃
He wasn't easily discouraged。 〃Then does the lovely seсorita mind if I sit down and keep her pany？〃 He had already drawn out the chair opposite hers。
Manning's warning came back to her： Don't tangle with anyone； you may frighten him off。 〃No； don't！〃 she cried； so alarmedly that he drew back a step。 〃Please！ Please don't stand here； please leave this table…〃
He was persistent。 Business must have been rotten these nights； with everyone staying away。 〃Just one small dance the seсorita refuses？〃 he coaxed。
She gave in finally； as the quickest and easiest way of getting rid of him。 After all； of the two evils； it would look less suspicious…to out there…to be seen dancing with him than to have him stand parleying beside her table for any length of time。
She got up and he led her back inside on his arm like some kind of a living trophy。 There were three others of his kind sitting disconsolately around the dance floor； one to a table。 Probably they worked on a percentage basis。
She'd never tangoed before。 She didn't have to now。 He tangoed for both of them。 He was good at it； as one should be at one's livelihood。 Even the scissors step she found herself doing without realizing it。 Over his shoulder she could still see the trees out there。 Whichever way she turned； they were waiting； on three sides of her； out beyond the hedge； as if to say： 〃We'll get you。 You're ing。 We'll get you。〃
Even a gigolo； a gigolo to cling to； was better than being alone with the darkness lying in wait all around。
After they'd gone once around the black glass； she said： 〃What's the name of that； they're playing？〃
He had to hum the words over to himself first in Spanish； to marshal them for translation。
Adios muchachos； paneros de mi vida；
Se acabaron para mi todas las farras
〃I do not speak the English very well。 It is of someone whose life is soon to finish。 It say； 'Goodby； boys； my life panions； For me is ending…
Even the music。 〃Please don't go ahead；〃 she said in a sick voice。 〃Will you excuse me now？ I'd like to go back to my table。〃
〃I have displeased the seсorita？〃
〃Not at all。 I have a headache。 Would you mind telling me how much I owe you？〃 They were back at the table by now。
He wasn't in the least dismayed。 〃The seсorita is too generous。 She did not plete her dance…〃
〃Take this anyway；〃 she said； to get rid of him； and touched his hand briefly。
Then she was alone again； a motionless； doomed figure sitting passively under a blood…red lantern。 She sat on for half an hour after she'd finished her coffee。 That sense of being watched kept growing stronger all the time。 Her very skin felt it； kept trying to crawl away from it。 She had to keep fighting； not to turn her head and look。 Once she almost had an impression of something luminous； phosphorescent； glowing out at her through the bushes。 She had to throw down a spoon and then stoop for it； the impulse to turn and see was so strong。 When she had straightened up in her chair again； she could resist； better。 By then it was gone anyway； whatever it had been； the corners of her eyes no longer felt it。
It seemed so silly； somehow； expecting to meet violence； perhaps even death itself； face to face within a short while； expecting to have to claw and rake at it with your bare hands； in defense of your life perhaps； and yet to be sitting here now dipping those same fingers into a bowl of tepid water with a gardenia floating around in it。 If she lived； she knew； she'd never be able to lo